


A Wolf Goes Back in Time

by 17daysgreys



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Out of Character, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-23 19:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16625333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/17daysgreys/pseuds/17daysgreys
Summary: Melissandre offers Arya the chance to go back in time and fix Westeros' mistakes before the Army of the Dead defeat them all, however, she gets a bit more than she bargains for.





	1. A Wolf and A Dragon in Winterfell

King’s Landing saw its first snow a few months ago and ever since then Daenerys, Aegon, Jon, and Arya had been preparing for the fight of their lives. They had suffered a bitter defeat from the Army of the Dead at Winterfell and were determined to not let it happen again. The capital held the most citizens and if the Night King’s army managed to breach its walls, he’d be impossible to stop. And so, the fateful day came when the small snowflakes became a blizzard and the winds howled as if the Old Gods were talking to them again, and everyone picked up their weapons and gave everything they had left. Houses did not matter nor did what you held between your legs nor your age or experience, everyone fought, everyone fought bravely, nobly, and valiantly. Alas, despite their best efforts the Night King’s army was too powerful to defeat.

“Jon,” Arya screamed as her favorite brother fought one on one with the Night King. He had told her it was his duty, he needed to protect the realm.

_“But you need to protect your family,” she had cried to him that fateful day he told her the truth about his destiny._

_“I am,” he explained, “You, Dany, Aegon, Ned, Visenya, you’re all my family.”_

_“Too many of us have died,” she uttered._

_“No more.”_

_“You’re going to die, aren’t you Jon?” He didn’t answer her, but the solemn gaze he held in his eyes told her more than she dared ask._

Jon fought valiantly with Longclaw, while Daenerys’ two remaining dragons were raining fire down on the wights, Aegon commanding Rhaegal and her Drogon. Arya fought on the ground with the other soldiers, acting as the commander of the Golden Company, a title she had earned from her time in Mereen with Aegon and Daenerys after leaving the House of Black and White. The battle roared in her ears, she could hear screams from men whose arms had just been hacked off, cries from women who shot bows with Valyrian Steel tipped arrows, but loudest of all was her mind repeating the mantra that Syrio Forel had taught her when she was just a little girl of nine who had no real knowledge of pain or suffering.

That little girl didn’t have the battle of a lifetime at her doorstep. No, she was much too consumed with avoiding Septa Mordane’s lessons and arguing about if she should be a lady or not. But here she is, the Queen of Winterfell, fighting for the dawn. And in her head, she still repeated, _not today, not today, not today._

“This battle is lost,” Melisandre shouted to the wolf queen.

“Jon is still,” her words caught in her throat as she watched the Night King thrust his sword into Jon’s chest, “Jon,” she cried.

“The Lord of Light will offer you another chance, but for a price,” Melisandre explained. Arya didn’t have time to listen to the pitiful witch who had stolen her friend, burned Shireen, caused insurmountable riffs between Jon and Daavos.

“Take the chance your grace.”

“I will fight this battle,” she argued.

“You will not lose your family,” Melisandre explained, “All I need is a drop of your blood and you’ll be in Winterfell again.”

And so, Arya cut her wrist and a small amount of her blood dropped onto Melisandre’s pendant. And suddenly everything turned black.

 

It had taken her years to get back to Winterfell. She had traveled with the night’s watch, ventured the Riverlands for a time with two boys named Gendry and Hot Pie, even tried her hand at becoming a faceless man. But she had found her home in Mereen where she met the two young dragons, Daenerys and her nephew Aegon. Together the three of them invaded Westeros, taking back Winterfell. It’d been a year since that fateful day, when Arya saw the Bolton banners fall and instead rose her Stark ones.

That day she had been crowned Queen in the North, per Robb’s will, a title Daenerys was more than happy to give her. They had sent letters all over the realm telling of the lone wolf’s return and soon her siblings came home. Sansa from the Eyrie, Bran from beyond the wall, Rickon from Skaagos. But there was not a happier day than when her brother Jon came to Winterfell from the Wall.

He had looked aged, battle-broken, and scarred. They had embraced each other with pure force and love that it took her a few minutes to let him go. He was real. But their reunion was not a happy one, with his arrival he brought thousands of wildings and tales of a war with the dead. So, they had started preparing and eventually Winterfell fell and they retreated to King’s Landing. Cersei had been killed by her brother Jamie quite soon after she had refused to aid Winterfell in the battle, leaving the Iron Throne open for Dany to take.

Arya woke up in her and Aegon’s bedroom, the room was dark, but the stone walls radiated heat. Even in the deepest depths of winter, the hot springs still ran through to warm the castle.

 _“Melisandre must’ve sent me back before the battle,”_ she thought as she cuddled up closer to her husband. He slept shirtless, as a dragon he claimed he always radiated heat.

His eyes fluttered open, “Morning.”

“Shh, don’t wake the children, she responded as he began to twist her hair between his fingers. Their two children, Eddard their eldest and Visenya who was barely walking were sleeping in a small bed next to them.

“I had this horrific dream,” he explained, “We were battling an army of dead people. You were commanding the Golden Company, Jon was fighting their leader, Dany and I were on our dragons.”

“Aegon,” she jolted out of bed, “That wasn’t a dream, that was real.”

“What?”

“I think,” she stuttered, “I think we went back in time.”

“How far back?”

“I don’t know.”

It was then that her door opened to the voice of Septa Mordane, “Lady Arya, it’s time to get—” but the woman screamed and ran like mad out of the room.

“Seven hells,” Arya muttered.

“Arya,” Aegon pressed, “How far back did we go?”

“If we’re at Winterfell and Septa Mordane is here then that means.”

“It means what?”

“My family is here. We’ve gone back to before my father was executed.”

 “Get dressed,” Arya urged.

“You think me getting dressed is going to get us out of this mess?” He asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be nine right now?”

Arya’s face paled as she looked down at herself. She was eighteen years old, married for three years to the Dragon Prince, crowned Queen in the North, mother of two. She was not a nine-year old little girl, she didn’t look the part nor could she dare act the part. She had managed to tame her hair, constantly wearing it in a braid over her shoulder, now it was loose and its free-flowing curls cascaded down her back. She grew into her features as well. No one would dare call her Arya horseface, as she grew in height her neck also grew, causing her to look closer to an elegant swan than a horse. Her eyes were still as sharp and fierce as ever, as well as her tongue which could speak Dothraki, Old and High Valyrian, Braavosi, and the common tongue.

Her husband on the other hand, was taller than her father and had shoulder length platinum blonde hair. His skin was an olive tone, from the Dornish on his mother’s side and his eyes were a deep indigo blue. The two of them met while she was traveling from Braavos to Mereen after she had left the Faceless Men.

He introduced himself as Griff while she called herself Cat. Eventually they fell in love and got married two months into their journey together. It was something Arya never thought she’d do, but there was this electric pull that Griff had with her. When they had made it to Mereen, however, Aegon had confessed who he truly was. Arya was so devastated she was considering going to Westeros to kill Cersei, her list had never strayed too far from her mind, but she found out she was pregnant. She could barely stand the sight of the Dragon for her entire pregnancy, but when she held little Ned in her arms for the first time, she had managed to forgive him.

Eventually they met up with Aegon’s aunt Daenerys, who was Queen of Mereen. Aegon had offered Daenerys the throne if he could stay with Cat and he would do what he could to rally the Dornish and the Storm Lords as well as the Golden Company. Arya offered a much simpler offer, the North.

_“I am surely seeing a ghost,” Tyrion said aghast._

_“Lord Lannister,” Arya smirked._

_“How did you? How did you get out of King’s Landing?” Aegon watched on, perplexed by the interaction with his wife and Tyrion. He knew almost every single one of his wife’s secrets. He knew she was a faceless man, he knew her name wasn’t exactly Cat, and he knew that she had left Westeros around the time the Hand of the King was killed. The fact that her eyes were grey and her accent still had a Northern twinge, as Jon Connington called it, did little to suppress his suspicions as to who she actually was._

_“Who is this Tyrion.”_

_“Lady Arya Stark of Winterfell, my Queen, your two greatest allies have walked into your hall, you could not be luckier.”_

_“How are you two acquainted?”_

_Arya didn’t know how to answer, she had just truly revealed herself to Aegon, although she knew he knew, calling herself Arya Stark made it all too real. The pain, the loss, the heartbreak. Being Cat kept her safe._

_“She’s my wife. We have a son, he was born a few moon turns ago.”_

_“Congratulations,” Daenerys smiled, “And what is it you want from me, little-wolf?”_

_“I ask that you allow the Starks to have Winterfell.”_

_The blonde woman came down from her throne, unable to hide the pleasant smirk on her face, she had finally found the perfect ally, “You will be Queen in the North, Arya Stark, when we take back the Seven Kingdoms we will seek vengeance on all those who wronged our families. Good sister.”_

Meanwhile in Ned’s study he received a peculiar letter with the sigil of the three-headed dragon, but oddly one of the heads was mixed with a wolf’s head. The sigil was black as well and the letter was addressed to Arya. As a girl of nine, she should not be getting letters from anyone that isn’t family, and this, nothing good would ever come from this letter.

_My dearest good-sister, Arya, Queen in the North, Wearer of Faces, Avenger of the Red Wedding, and Mother to the heirs of the Iron Throne, Eddard Rhaegar Stark-Targaryen and Visenya Catelyn Stark-Targaryen:_

_I write to you to tell you that my armies will be arriving in Winterfell in one-moon’s turn. We have a chance to defeat the dead. I look forward to fighting on the battlefield with you, one last time. Remember, what Jon had told you, always stick with the pointy end. Will you command the Northern forces once again and lead our people to their much-deserved victory? I hope you and Aegon are faring well and to please send the children all my love. If you see Jon, please let him know that Viseryon misses him. I’ll expect your response as soon as possible- write to me if you hear anything about the Army of the Dead or Jon remembering, he isn’t here._

_Daenerys_ _of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Lady Regnant of the Seven Kingdoms, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons”._

 

The end of the letter was wet from the Dragon Queen’s tears. Ned immediately ran from his study to find his wife on her way to Arya’s room.

“Ned, I swear if she ignores Septa Mordane one more time,” Catelyn began, then she caught sight of her panting husband who looked as if he had seen a ghost, “Ned, what is it?”

“Where is Arya,” he brushed passed his wife.

“Her room,” Catelyn ran after her husband.  

As the two made their way to Arya’s room, they saw Septa Mordane who looked as if she had just seen a ghost.

“Septa,” Ned asked, “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know,” she answered, “I went to wake Lady Arya up and I think my mind is playing tricks on me.”

“What did you see?” Ned urged.

“I saw Lady Arya, but she was older, and there was.”

“What- there was what?” Catelyn was panicking.

“A man.”

Ned didn’t even bother to knock on the door, he barged in to see his daughter standing in front of him with a babe in her arms and a little boy clutching her tunic, while a dragon stood to her left protecting her. Instead of his baby girl standing in front of him, there was a young woman who looked as mighty and regal. He felt an overwhelming sense of pride.

Catelyn on the other hand clutched her husband’s arm, bracing herself for otherwise she surely would’ve fainted. Who was she looking it? Who was this young woman? A woman who, by every since of the imagination, was as beautiful as a winter rose. And the babe she clutched to her chest with dark brown hair and purple eyes, while the young boy had bright blonde hair and grey eyes.  

“Mommy, who are they?” The little boy asked.

“They’re my parents,” Arya croaked.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEED A BETA

“Ned,” Catelyn asked, “Are my eyes deceiving me?”

He was at a loss for words too, “No, I don’t think they are.

Arya hesitated to run up and hug her parents, to shower them with kisses, and to show them how much she desperately missed the both of them. But the diplomat, the faceless woman, the mother in her told her to stand tall. She had just walked into the wolf’s den. Her parents could easily execute her for witchcraft, throw her husband and children out of Winterfell because Robert Baratheon still reigned as king. Right now, she was not the Queen of the North.

“Arya,” Ned tried, as he approached his youngest daughter. She was cold and her face revealed no emotions. A part of him knew the Old Gods had a reason for why his daughter was here, a woman grown with a family of her own. But no part of him wanted to know why his daughter had lost that curious spark from her eye, _what did you have to endure my little wolf?_

As grey eyes met grey, Arya dropped her façade and hugged her father. He smelled like the Gods wood and of hearth and home. Tears fell from her eyes as her small arms clung to his neck and she dug her face into his chest. He smelled her hair and held her close to him too.

“I… I never thought I’d see you again,” she cried.

“Mommy,” Ned interrupted again, “Up, up.” Arya grabbed the three-year-old little boy, who was the spitting image of her father, except his platinum blonde hair.

“Who is this?” Ned cooed.

“My name’s Ned, but my long name is Eddard, but that’s too hard to say.”

Ned chuckled, “And this is Visenya and I’m Aegon Targaryen, my lord,” he introduced their daughter, he on the other hand didn’t need an introduction, as the Quiet Wolf knew exactly who the young dragon was.

“You’ll have to explain how Varys smuggled you out of King’s Landing, lad, but I’d know those eyes anywhere. You are Rhaegar’s son,” he turned to Arya,

“Your future is brighter than I ever could’ve imagined for you.”  

Tears began to fall, “Little wolf,” he wiped her tears with his thumb, “The Old Gods— “

“There is no God, but death,” she abruptly interrupted, “I paid a price to come back.”

“Come back?” Catelyn joined the conversation, “Come back where?”

“The war for the dawn is coming,” Arya said cryptically, “We are here to right the wrongs Westeros made last time, so that we may stand a chance against the Night King’s armies.”

“Arya, those are just old nan’s tales,” Catelyn urged.

“Show them,” Aegon urged.

And so, she rolled the left sleeve of her tunic, revealing terrible blue scars all over her arm. They were caused by the White Walker’s blades from the many battles she fought with them.

Ned and Catelyn both gasped, “I have fought these monsters many times and have lost each time. Westeros is lost if we do not join together. But I especially need Jon, is he still here? He needs to ride Viseryon before it’s too late.”

“Jon Snow?” Catelyn pried.

“Aemon Targaryen, Prince of the Seven Kingdoms and husband to Daenerys Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,” Aegon corrected.

Arya glared at her husband, even she knew that revealing his true identify would prove to be detrimental.

“Ned,” Catelyn scowled.

He lowered his head and faced his wife, the fury evident on her face as her hands were on each hip, “He is my blood,” Ned explained, “But he is not my son.”

“What do you mean?”

Aegon interjected, “Jon is my half-brother, son to my father Rhaegar. He is the third head of the dragon.”

“Lyanna.”

“Yes,” Ned confirmed, “My sister was never kidnapped, she and Rhaegar ran away together and fell in love.

“You lied to me all of these years.”

“I promised Lyanna I would protect him. She knew what she had done the pain and trouble she had caused, she knew that her time had come. She was only sixteen, she didn’t know how seriously my father and brother would have taken it, she couldn’t have foreseen the rebellion. And she was lying there, barely alive when I laid Arthur Dane’s sword down at the foot of the bed, sweat covered her brow and her once gleeful lips were chapped and broken. She held on, just long enough so she could ask me to protect her son. She did so much wrong and caused so much heartache, but she had a glimmer of hope at the shear thought that I could save her son.”

“I would have protected him too.”

“If I had told you, Cat, and Robert had found out you would have been executed too. All of you,” he looked pointedly at Arya, “No one is to know that he is not a bastard. Not even him.”

“How could you not have trusted me, Ned?”

Awkward tension filled the room as Ned continued, “I didn’t know you, Cat,” he answered honestly, “How was I supposed to entrust you with such a secret? One that could have led to me being killed for treason and Gods knows what Robert would have done to you and Robb, let alone Jon.”

Cat cringed as she tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, never in her life had she once cared about the fate of the bastard. If he lived or died or spent the remaining days of his life at the Wall, she had not cared. She hated him. She hated everything he represented. The shame he brought upon her, but most of all she hated herself for being capable enough to hate an innocent boy, “Robert is your friend, he would have understood,” Cat argued back.

“Robert Baratheon is no friend of ours,” Arya interjected.

“Arya,” Ned hissed, “That is your king you are speaking of.”

“I serve no King,” she retorted, “I serve one Queen, Queen Daenerys Targaryen.”

Ned glanced down at the letter he held in his hand, “What future did you come from?”

“One where every single Stark dies,” she coldly responded unable to make eye-contact with either one of her parents who were both shocked as she continued her tale, “It started with a letter from Aunt Lysa convincing you that the Lannisters had Jon Aryn poisoned, a lie,” She stated coldly. “Then the King comes to Winterfell and asks you to be Hand of the King, you wanted to refuse, but you couldn’t, another lie. The wolves don’t fare well in the south,” she muttered cryptically, “After Robert died, you were executed for treason, Sansa was a hostage in the red keep, and me,” she chuckled, “My hair was shorn off and I was forced to pretend to be a boy traveling with the Night’s Watch.”

“Arya,” Catelyn offered her hand, but Arya instead sought Aegon as comfort.

“I traveled with them until Yoren was killed, then me, Gendry, and Hot Pie wanted to find you and Robb. He had gathered the Northern forces and declared war on the Lannisters for wrongfully executing father, he was the King in the North,” her voice had a sense of pride to it, “But he was not killed on the battle field like most warriors. No,” she clenched her teeth together remembering the sight of that cruel night where the Frey’s betrayed guest right, “He was killed at a wedding, along with his wife, and you mother.”

“You don’t have to continue,” Aegon whispered in his wife’s ear.

“No, I must,” she softly spoke, “The Hound kidnapped me and we traveled to try and find Aunt Lysa, she was the only family I had left. By the time we got to the Eyrie, news of her death had come a few days prior. The Hound was occupied with a fight with Lady Brienne of Tarth and while he was injured and on the edge of death, he asked me to kill him, he was on my list anyways. Instead I refused and I took a ship to Braavos. A man, who I had met in my travels with the Night’s Watch had given me a coin.”

Ned’s eyes grew wide as his daughter continued her story, “I was good,” she insisted, “Never missed once. But I couldn’t be controlled, either, and I paid for it. They took my sight. They took my memories. They even took my name. They tried to kill me more than once, have the scars to prove it,” she added, “But eventually I won and decided to leave the order. I traveled to Mereen and on the journey, I met Aegon. When we met with Daenerys, a few months later, I revealed myself and she offered me the North just as Robb’s will had stated.”

“Why wouldn’t your sister or your brothers—” Cat asked, but soon stopped after receiving a painfully devastating look from Arya.

“Sansa was forced to marry the Imp and we thought that Bran and Rickon were murdered by Theon Greyjoy.”

Cat’s hands clutched her husband’s tunic, “All of my children,” her eyes were petrified, she didn’t want to ask Arya, she didn’t want to know.

“After I took back Winterfell, Sansa, Jon, Rickon, and Bran all eventually returned.”

Cat let out an exasperated sigh of relief, “But none of them survived the Great War.”

Cat let out a blood curdling cry, and Ned held his wife whose agony caused his own self to cry at the thought of his family being destroyed like this.

“We will not let that history repeat itself,” he told his daughter sternly, “I am Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, if you ask me to do it, I will call my banners.”

“Call them,” she answered, “Call every single man and woman who can hold a bow or a sword or a dagger. We need dragon glass, Valyrian steel, and fire. That is how we win.”

“Fire, the dragon queen, she wrote this letter to you.”

He handed Arya the letter, “Daenerys is part of the key,” she explained, “She has the men, the dragons, and the dragon glass, but we still need to organize the northern forces. How long ago was this letter written?” Arya asked.

“She should be here any day.”

“There is no time to waste,” Arya added.

She grabbed the letter from Ned’s hand as she exited the room, feeling a rush of both excitement and fear. The memories of her old life, of her life, still stuck with her. The day he was executed and she heard the sound of steal, of ice, slice her father’s head off as if it was cutting a piece of meat. Or Robb being paraded on top of a horse with Grey Wind’s head sown to his body, while his wife’s beaten and stabbed body laid in the hall both her and their unborn child gone. Or seeing her mother be given the gift of life only to become a vengeful shell of herself and being forced to kill her had almost sent Arya into a rage.

The worst part of it all was the hope she had gathered when she and Aegon had retaken Winterfell. Her remaining siblings came home and one by one they each died. Sansa in childbirth, Rickon from an arrow to the chest during the first battle at Winterfell, Bran sacrificed himself to try to win the war, but to no avail; and worst of all Jon being stabbed in the chest. She was truly the last Stark.

She was running through the hallway, still clutching Daenerys’ letter to her chest, she needed to prepare herself for The Dragon Queen’s visit. Arya was heading to the Godswood when she heard the sound of a bumbling idiot, whose own sense of family pride cost her hers.

“Robb,” Theon Greyjoy’s voice called, it had an all too familiar sense of pride to it. Suddenly the two of them collided and he examined her with her steel-colored eyes, licked his lips as if he was a lion preparing to it his prey. As she tried to pass by him, she looked down at the ground, trying not to draw any attention to herself, he grabbed her ass. She immediately recoiled away from the Kraken’s touch.

“Haven’t seen you around Winterfell,” he purred.

“You lay another hand on me, it’ll be the last time you have a hand,” she threatened in Braavosi.

“I like a girl who puts up a fight,” he smirked and this time his hands tried to grab both of her breasts. She immediately grabs both of his arms with her right hand and twists under him, and in seconds she has him pinned against the wall, her legs are positioned around his calves and she squeezes to maintain her balance on the nineteen-year old boy, and she has a dagger at his throat.

“I’ll enjoy killing you the most, Kraken,” she spits in the common tongue. Theon Greyjoy had cost Robb Winterfell, pretended to kill her younger brothers, even acted as Ramsay’s lap dog who sat watch as he raped her sister Sansa. He may have paid with more than his life by being Ramsey’s slave, but she had no patience for him. The people on her list were people who betrayed her family for their own gains, people who she had never truly cared about before, they weren’t family. But Theon, he was a Stark. He was her brother. His betrayal stung more than the rest of them.

His eyes radiate fear as he gets a good look at the woman who has her Valyrian Steel dagger millimeters away from slitting his throat, “Who are you?”

She blinks and gone is a woman with dark hair and familiar grey eyes, instead she is a woman with red hair and green eyes, she looks a bit like Sansa. And she blinks again and her face changes and over and over she does this, until she settles on the original face.

“If you ever betray Winterfell, Reek,” she hissed, “you will never be able to escape, I will find you, and I will kill you.”

“Who are you?”

“The Queen in the North.”

He wanted to laugh, who in the seven hells was this woman, but he looked at her again and he saw it. The horseface had grown up, and surprisingly well, “Arya,” he gasped.

“Your grace,” she corrected.

She let him go and continued her walk to the Godswood. It was just as she remembered, the trees acted as canopies, so wild and lush. She slowly walked to the heart tree, a place she hadn't even been when she returned to Winterfell in her other life. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do," she confessed to the Heart Tree, "I cannot fail again." Soon, however, her prayers were interrupted by the sound of dragons and she made her way to the courtyard. 

“Her grace, Daenerys Targaryen,” Missandel announced.

 Daenerys arrived in Winterfell’s courtyard on horseback with a couple of her most trusted advisors, most notably Missandel and Jorah Mormont.  The courtyard was relatively empty, except for Robb Stark and his older friend, Theon Greyjoy, who were practicing swordplay. Both boys stared at the dragon queen with wonder, then their faces twisted as they watched a woman who looked similar to Arya come out from the shadows and greet the Dragon Queen.

“Arya,” Dany squealed as she jumped off of her horse and practically ran to hug her good sister.

“Dany,” Arya returned the smile. Robb still looked on in disbelief, they could barely hear the conversation that was happening between the two women, so they both walked towards them, but were both further surprised when a young man, who looked suspiciously like the dragon queen, came out with a young girl in his arms.

“Egg,” Dany laughed as she went to greet Aegon, “Oh and Visenya, she’s gotten so big.” Dany hadn’t seen Visenya since a few months before the battle of Kings landing, Arya had sent both of her children to Dorne to live with Aegon’s cousins. It had been the most heart-breaking decision she had to make as a mother, but it was her only hope that maybe her children would be able to survive the war.”

 “She has,” Aegon beamed, “Pretty soon she’ll be walking, and we won’t ever be able to catch her, especially if she’s anything like her mother.”

“I’m not that bad,” Arya playfully smacked her husband.

“Do you know our son?”

“He’s…”

Aegon eyed her down, “He’s what?”

“Okay fine,” she relented, “He definitely is a runner.”

“Much like yourself.”

“You don’t become the Commander of an army if you’re not a runner,” she rebutted.

“Excuse me,” Robb’s voice interrupted the Targaryen reunion, “Who are you?”

“This is Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Lady Regnant of the Seven Kingdoms, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons,” Missandel answered.

“Thank you, Missandel, Robb Stark, I assume,” she smiled at the young-wolf, “Your sword fighting is good, but I doubt you’d ever be able to best your sister,” she eyed Arya.

Robb’s jaw dropped, “Arya,” he gasped.

“Spar with her,” Daenerys urged, a plan forming in her mind.

“I…I can’t,” he stuttered.

Theon Greyjoy interjected, “She’ll put up a good fight.”

“Why?” He asked.

“She must lead the northern forces,” Daenerys answered, “But she also must prove herself.”

“Lead the northern forces for what?” He asked.

“Robb,” Arya looked him in the eyes, there was something she wasn’t telling him, there was a reason his little sister was her but she looked different, she spoke differently, her mannerisms, everything was different, “Please.”

He sensed nothing but fear in her voice, and so, Robb relented and drew his weapon.

“Until first blood,” Daenerys called, and soon a crowd had formed, Ned and Catelyn included, “If this girl can beat Robb Stark,” she hid Arya’s identity from the Northern Lords who were gathering around, “I will make her the commander of my army. If she doesn’t, then she will be sent North of the Wall.”

Hoots and hollers could be heard from around the yard.

“She doesn’t stand a chance,” an onlooker stated.

“Not with that tiny sword,” another shouted.

“Arya,” Robb spoke quietly, “At least pick a weapon that’ll stand a chance.”

“Trust me, brother, Needle will.”

The two siblings began to circle around each other. Robb held his sword firmly with two hands, looking for a chance to strike. But he had never seen anyone fight like she was. She dodged every single one of his movements with such ease, he had started to lose his breath, and she hadn’t even begun to show signs of tiredness.

At one point, he thought he had her, he thought he had given her the final blow, but instead she flipped out from under him and motioned stabbing him in the gut.

“Dead,” her voice was cold and distant.

The crowd had a stunned silence come over them.

Arya looked at Robb, who was stunned at her skills, “Robb, where is Jon?”

Daenerys’ ears perked up, “He went missing beyond the wall years ago Arya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reposted and edited. Next chapter soon.

**Author's Note:**

> REPOSTED. Hope you enjoy my edits!! This will likely be 5 chapters.


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